Karen's Eulogy

Delivered by Karen Iacovelli:

My niece, Karen, was my namesake and my God-daughter. We shared a... special bond as soon as she was able to walk. Her mom identified us by calling her little Karen and me, big Karen, which stuck throughout our lives, even though Karen gew to be about a foot taller than me. I was AK to her and she was KD to me. We had a lifelong friendship, one that transcended the role of aunt and niece. That happened because when Karen decided she was going to carve her way into hearts, she just did it, and you were defenseless against her inquisitive, endearing, energetic charm. The words I have heard that most often describe Karen are: responsible, efficient, talented, sweet, generous.

In writing on the Memorial Blog, her 13-year-old cousin, Sam, said: "Thank you for everything you have given me. Even talking to you has brought joy into my life. I will never forget your stick-to-it attitude and more wonderful attributes than I can count." Sam and Josh are my brother Warren's twin sons, who lost their Dad five years ago. Karen and Warren were also "best buds" and had been for many, many years. When Warren was ill, Karen was often by his side chatting business and family, and chopping vegetables or rolling out pastry dough. We have a thing in our family for food, and little Karen learned early how to master culinary treats that delighted everyone lucky enough to feast at her table.

Karen was chatty, serious, pensive and playful. As a child, maybe a tad spoiled, but try scolding her against the magic of her blue twinkling eyes and ear to ear grin. Yes, she could wrap you around her finger. I think her brother, Ed, growing up in a house full of sisters, watched the impish Karen steal the show to his annoyance, but if he felt left out, he would be in for a big surprise years later as brother and sister connected in an unforgettable way.

Conservative and liberal, cautious and decisive. Karen had an uncanny sense of assessing obstacles and leaping beyond them. She spent the summer of 1982 with me at our farm in New York. I had decided to buy a horse, and she was very, very excited. I knew she had spent a lot of time learning how to ride and that she loved horses. But her aunt owning one? Well, for her it was like Christmas in July. The day Muffin the mare was to leave her old barn digs and come home with us, Karen and I strolled down the farm lane swatting each other with our crops, on our way to pick up this 16 hand, 1500 pound bundle of joy. As the reins were given to us, I fully expected Karen would eagerly hop up on the saddle but instead she said, well, I think we should just walk Muffin back up to the farm so she gets to learn the way home. Midway through the walk, with the two of us towing a horse behind us, I asked her to ride Muffin the rest of the way. "Well, Aunt Karen," she said, in the twang that always sounded like a question, "I've never learned to ride outside the ring..." Little did she know that I was terrified of this clomping monster. Karen never said she was afraid, but looking back, I guess she was, too. So, I just said, well, walk Muffin up to the barn because I think you're right, she needs to learn her way home. As I lingered on the lane, it took maybe five minutes for this determined 15-year-old to leap up on the saddle and ride the rest of the way without looking back. The student had become the teacher, and it was that year that I learned more from her and would for the rest of our lives as pals. That was Karen.

From Wall Street to Hinsdale, she was a woman true to herself. Loyal, steady, the person you want on your side, by your side. To talk with, to listen with. Cry, laugh and think with. She had her Dad's wit and Irish charm and her mother's multi-faceted artistic gifts. She was a sap for animals and a lap for little kids--a person you knew you could trust and count on during the tough times. She and her sister, Catherine, were best friends. And big sister, Suzanne, was the inspiration for Karen's lifelong love of music.

Jim, her former colleague in New Jersey, wrote on the Facebook Memorial that Karen was one of the sweetest and talented people I have had the privilege to meet. And Penny wrote: she was such a kind person. From Cheryl and Jody: Karen's move to New Jersey was a great blessing to us Jersey girls. Jody and I loved her like a sister. She was a gift. It was because of Karen that I chose to make that awful drive from where I live in South Carolina, rather than fly, to visit with my family in Connecticut, because she had the best rest stop in the country. We spent several times a year in her lovely, comfy Madison home on my way up north and on the return trip. It was something I always looked forward to doing, because we had our time alone.

We are all aware of Karen's impeccable resumé and her stunning achievements. But the most challenging role she assumed was her pursuit of becoming Caroline's mom. She deliberated adopting a child for a few years, worrying about the impact taking time to do so would have upon her career. As a single mom, making this choice was not easy. Karen, the responsible one, never did anything second rate. If she was going to do this, she was going to embrace it wholly. Which is exactly what she did. With an enormously supportive family, Karen crossed other boundaries to find Caroline in Kazakhstan. The journey of this amazing love story was chronicled on her blog, where anyone who knew what she was doing, was glued to the internet for the latest news from across the globe. While there was so much family support for her calculated leap of faith, it was her brother, Ed, that would find his life immeasurably changed by Karen's asking him to share the experience with her. So Ed did. Under primitive and often frustrating and fearful circumstances, Ed and Karen not only had each other, they had found each other. During a surprise phone call she made to me while in Kazakhstan, she said she could not have withstood the grueling emotional roller coaster of the foreign adoption process without her brother by her side. But she also said that Ed had served another very important role: he was the master spider killer. The only fear that she never overcame.

There are many Karen stories. But this one is the image I would like you to hold in your hearts. The day of Caroline's Christening, Caroline gew increasingly ill with a dangerously high fever. It was a cold, damp February morning in Madison, New Jersey and by late morning, Karen cancelled the service. By mid-afternoon, I drove Karen, cradling a very sick baby, to the emergency room where we spent the next ten or eleven hours with doctors and nurses trying to figure out what was wrong. Fluids were administered to this frightened baby girl and an equally frightened new mom. By nine or ten p.m., I went to the hospital cafeteria to bring some food back to the ER. When I returned, I found Karen sound asleep, she and Caroline snuggled tightly in each other's arms. It was that sight that told me more about my precious niece than any resume, any cooking class, and any financial expertise that had so defined her to so many people. This beautiful woman, smart and often fearless, was the essence of love and tenderness. I saw the window into her soul that night. All of us who knew Karen watched this new dimension of her unfold. She was kindness. She loved her daughter without effort and gave to all in a way that forever enhances our lives. It was her role as Mom that defined her more than any Ivy League degree or professional accomplishments. Inspiring, uncomplaining, unselfish.

Family and friends were everything to her. Karen was not without her hurts, worries and disappointments, but she faced them all with a determination to ride outside the ring, and not be limited to a life lived inside of it. If there is one thing we can do to honor her life, it is to help keep the memory of her alive for her little Caroline, and to let her know for the rest of her life how instantly, deeply and unconditionally her mother loved her.